


Space

by DwarvenBeardSpores



Series: Long Distance Calls [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Carlos in the Desert Otherworld, Communication, Episode: e065 Voicemail, Honesty, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Relationship Negotiation, The Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-11 13:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12935829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DwarvenBeardSpores/pseuds/DwarvenBeardSpores
Summary: Cecil wants to be okay, but the pressures of being a long-distance boyfriend and Lot 37 are getting to him. When Carlos calls during League Night he realizes— and expresses— that things have got to change.





	Space

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back for another angsty conversation! This one is inspired by Voicemail, where we learn that at one point, Cecil told Carlos he needed some space. 
> 
> It's a companion piece to Trapped because they're thematically and structurally similar, but you don't need to read one to read the other.

Cecil didn’t notice his phone at first because he had just rolled a mega-strike. An actual, undeniable, all-the-pins-down-and-two-of-them-broken-in-half mega-strike. Regular strikes were exciting enough, but mega-strikes were really hard to pull off, and Old Woman Josie was at a distinct disadvantage now, since two of the pins were now broken and she could no longer get points for knocking them down.

They were old friends, though, so Josie was just as excited as he was, and gave him a hug. “I can’t believe it,” Cecil said, and Josie answered “if any of your listeners doubt you, just tell them I was an eyewitness.”

Two of the Erikas chattered amongst themselves, arguing over whether or not it would be cheating or simply “being a good customer” to fix the broken pins right away. A third Erika noticed the phone buzzing away on the table and said “hey Cecil, I think this is yours?”

It was Carlos.

“Oh,” Cecil said. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, replacing the glow of his mega-strike entirely. “Oh, my gosh, I’ve got to take this.”

“We’re in the middle of a game,” said Josie. “He’ll call back later.” A piece of paper in her left hand rustled as she tried to put it down and failed.

“I know,” Cecil said, taking the phone from Erika’s long, dark, incomprehensible fingers. “I mean, he probably will.” The phone stopped buzzing, and then started again as Carlos tried calling for a second time. Maybe there was something really crucial going on. Maybe Carlos had found a door, or was in some kind of mortal peril. “I’m sorry. I know, but it’s _Carlos_. You know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Josie said, and shook her head. “It was Carlos two weeks ago, and last week it was saving Mayor Cardinal. I’d like to finish a game one of these days.”

Cecil paused with his phone halfway to his ear. “I saved Mayor Cardinal last week? During League Night?”

Josie nodded. “I assumed you knew.”

“No.” Cecil felt as though Josie had punched him in the stomach. It was true he couldn’t recall just how last week’s League Night had ended, but memory was an unreliable thing. Cecil’s memory was conditional at best, deliberately tampered with at worst, and he hadn’t really thought anything of this particular blank spot. But if Josie said that he had left to save the Mayor _again_ …

The phone was still buzzing in his hands. Cecil almost let it go to voicemail. Lane 3, which had seemed so spacious before, felt as though it was closing in on him. Josie, Carlos, the Erikas, the impatient scoreboard that would give up and start playing movies about penguins soon, and the Sheriff’s Secret Police officer surreptitiously getting nachos at the snack bar; they were all _waiting_ on him. _Wanting_ him. He needed to think, to understand, to process the fact that Dana had used him at least one more time than he was aware of. Or at least to finally rise victorious from a bowling game after a losing streak of too long.

His phone buzzed.

“I’ll be right back,” Cecil said. He accepted the call and tried to ignore the ambient noise as he made his way to the doors.

Behind him, Erika said “does this mean we win?”

“Score one for team angels,” said Erika.

“I told you to stop saying that!” said Teddy Williams from behind the counter. “Angels don’t exist! Do you want this place to get investigated for language and belief-related crimes?”

Cecil pushed open the doors and stepped out of the Dessert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex into the cool desert night. As the door closed behind him, the persistent clatter, funky dance music, and ominous wailings disappeared and he was left in silence. He took a deep breath. The crowded feeling had not gone away.

“Carlos?”

“Hi sweetheart,” Carlos said. He sounded fine, and Cecil closed his eyes. He pressed his face closer into the phone, as though physical contact with a hunk of plastic and electricity could make up for the unfathomable distance between two people. Carlos’s voice was tinny through the phone, but still perfect. “I just got done doing some science, and it’s really exciting, and I wanted to call you. To talk to you, and to listen to you talk to me. You know, a conversation.”

“Yes,” said Cecil. He forgot, sometimes, the desperate thirst to be close to Carlos, the ache that permeated every part of his body, but hearing Carlos’s voice brought it all back. He wanted to add _I miss you_ but they’d agreed several weeks ago that the missing was understood, and saying it just made things harder for both of them. Instead, he sat down on the front step of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex so he could give Carlos all the attention that would have been taken up by standing.

“So,” Carlos began. “Science. There have been some really exciting developments. I told you that we found an old microwave the other day, right? Well, today we got it to work. There’s not much to microwave, since food works differently here, and what we _do_ have isn’t exactly microwave safe. But, we microwaved some sand, and that worked fine, and then we microwaved a cactus, and it gained sentience and tried to attack us. I know that doesn’t _sound_ exciting, but it was actually pretty intense until Alicia grabbed it and squeezed it until it died and then fed it to their Bichon Frise.”

“Wow,” Cecil said. “And you’re safe, right? It didn’t bite you? Cactus bites can get infected so easily, especially by radical political ideologies.”

Carlos laughed, in an I-appreciate-your-concern-but-it’s-okay way. “I’m fine,” Carlos said. “Really. We’re all fine.”

Cecil let out a deep breath. Carlos was fine. He was always fine, and Cecil…

Cecil had his back to the neon lights of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, and he could hear the clatter of bowling balls and the moans of excited bowlers every time someone opened the bulletproof glass doors. Cecil had a bruise on his shin that he couldn’t remember getting that had probably come from being forced to do something heroic, or tripping over a lawn gnome. For one reason or another, Cecil was becoming estranged from two of his closest friends. From himself. Being alive was dangerous and demanding, being a radio host was more dangerous and more demanding, but the demands had always left space for bits of _him_ to exist. With everything going on now, though…. he wasn’t sure that was true anymore.

Cecil was stretched too thin. He was always waiting for someone to call. He was Lot 37. He was not his own self.

Cecil was not fine.

“Sweetheart?” Carlos said. “Are you still there? My phone says we’re still connected, but phones are notorious liars and this one’s saying it in a really suspicious way, like ‘ _sure_ Carlos, of _course_ you’re connected, why would I lie to you?’ and that doesn’t really inspire confidence, you know?”

“Carlos,” Cecil said. “I’m here, I just…” His voice sounded strange, like even that wasn’t his any more. “I… don’t know.” A change in Weather started to build up in his chest, but he resisted the urge to let it loose and disappear into the music.

“What’s going on?” Carlos said. He sounded worried, and Cecil didn’t know what to say to make him not-worried. “Cecil, is something wrong?”

Everything was wrong, and there were so many words in Cecil’s throat to describe how wrong it all was. How helpless he felt; how alone. How tired and uncertain he was all the time.

Cecil’s voice wavered as he finally said “I got a mega-strike.”

“Like in bowling? That’s awesome Cecil!”

“It’s League Night, and I got a mega-strike, and I was _happy_ , Carlos. Then you called and now I’m outside and talking to you and the scoreboard has probably reset by now. And don’t get me wrong, I _want_ to talk to you, I _love_ talking to you. But lately I’ve had so few chances to be happy… to just be.” Cecil sucked in a shaking breath. What was he saying? These words, like so many of his words, seemed to have a life of their own. True and at the same time incomprehensible. 

“Oh,” Carlos said. For a moment they both breathed into the phone, their breaths out of synch, not mingling. “Do you need to go?” Carlos asked. “I didn’t mean to interrupt League Night. I can call again later.”

“I… I don’t know.” Cecil rubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t want to hang up. “I want to talk to you so much, Carlos, and every time I miss a call I wonder: how long will be until you call again? Time is weird, and everything you do is so important.”

“I’ll call again soon,” Carlos promised. “I will. I don’t know how long it will be for you, because time is weird, but I’ll always call again soon. It’s okay, Cecil.”

“But it’s not just you!” Cecil swung his arm in gesture and nearly smacked the member of the Sherif’s Secret Police who was monitoring the outside of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. “I mean, it’s hard not knowing when you’ll call and dropping everything to talk to you and being reminded how much I _miss you_. It’s so hard, but, I mean, Dana’s doing the same thing, only worse, and instead of talking to her about all sorts of cool science, she’s asking me to risk my life for hers. Instead of missing her I’m just… upset. And I miss her. Even though she _bought_ me.”

“Cecil,“ Carlos began tentatively. “Do the things going on with me and Dana really feel so similar to you?”

“No,” Cecil said instinctively. “I mean, yes? I don’t know. You being my boyfriend and Dana manipulating my movements are not the same thing _at all_ , but… the only certainty I have anymore is that I will come when either of you call. It could be any time. For any reason.” He twisted his hands in his bowling shirt. “And look. It’s not a new feeling. I’ve always been at the complete mercy of Station Management; it’s just part of being a good radio host, but even that’s harder now. It’s harder to focus on the things that they want me to say. To say anything at all.”

Carlos was silent.

Cecil sighed, wishing he hadn’t said anything, and wishing he had said more. “I feel like I don’t know who I am, anymore. I just know who other people want me to be.”

The nearby member of the Sherif’s Secret Police, who had been writing down the conversation in a notebook, stepped forward and patted Cecil’s back comfortingly. Cecil politely didn’t acknowledge them.

Carlos said “wow. Cecil.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Cecil said. “I didn’t mean to— I wanted to have a nice conversation, I really did.”

“It’s okay,” Carlos said. He sounded very far away. “Those are a lot of things you’re feeling and experiencing, and I knew some of them already but I didn’t know all of them. Or maybe I just didn’t want to know.”

“I don’t think I did either,” Cecil said. “Things sort of came to a head tonight.” He sniffed loudly. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Hmmm,” said Carlos, scientifically. “Well, I’m still trying to figure out a way to get you to the Desert Otherworld, and when I do, you should definitely come visit. I think getting out of Night Vale would be really good for you.”

“Okay,” Cecil said. He still wasn’t sure what he thought about the idea of visiting; on one hand, he could use a break, and more than anything else he wanted to see Carlos. On the other hand, leaving Night Vale was hard. It was his home, and he just wanted Carlos to come back for good.

“In the meantime, I’m not sure. You said you’ve already talked to Dana, right?”

It was hard to say the next words Cecil said. It was so hard, but he did say them. He had to. He hadn’t even thought them before, but they’d been a long time coming. “Carlos. I do want to see you but… while you’re figuring out how to make that happen… I think I need to turn my phone off for a while.”

His phone growled in protest, but he ignored it.

“When you call, I need to be able to not answer. I need space. Which sounds ridiculous, right?” Cecil managed a weak laugh. “You’re so far away and I’m asking for space? Like, that should be the last thing I want, but…”

Carlos, thankfully, did not challenge him. Cecil sobered.  
  
“I just need… to think. To remind myself of who I am, and who I am not, and who I can be, someday. Right now I’m… not okay, Carlos. In so many ways. I haven’t even made it all the way through League Night in… too long." Maybe he'd missed more than the past three weeks. He couldn't remember. 

Carlos was quiet. “I don't know what to say," he said. "Scientifically, I understand. Personally, I like to be able to call you, and I know we’re not supposed to say it, but I’ll miss talking to you. A lot.”

Cecil’s heart felt as though it had just gained sentience and had learned terror of the world around it. “If I could turn Dana’s summons off instead, I would, but—“

“I know,” Carlos said. “It’s okay. I think. I figured out where I needed to be— in the Desert Otherworld, doing science— and now you need to figure out what you need. I want you to.”

“Carlos,” Cecil said. He already missed Carlos with a violent, desperate hunger. Perhaps he shouldn’t have suggested needing space at all. Maybe he could have made it work, figured something out. This was only one really bad night, after all, in a really bad month, in a really bad year. Nothing to worry about.

“I do have one question,” Carlos said. “When something exciting happens, or I have important information to tell you, or I just miss you, can I call and leave you a message? Not often, and you don’t have to answer, but—“

“Yes,” Cecil said. “Please do.”

“Okay,” Carlos said, then repeated “okay."

They sat in silence again. Cecil still didn’t want to hang up. He listened to Carlos’s breath, still out of synch with his own, and tried to make them match.

“I should go,” Carlos said, finally. “I… I have a lot to think about. Too much. And you should get back to bowling. Do something just for you.”

“I got a mega-strike,” Cecil said. He sniffed again, and wiped his nose on the corner of his bowling shirt.

“I’m proud of you,” Carlos replied, and added, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Carlos hung up. Cecil listened to the emptiness on the other end of his phone. He didn’t feel any closer to knowing himself. He just felt… disconnected. Distant. Dark clouds of music started gathering over the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex.

“Mega-strike,” Cecil said again, a reminder to himself. Before Carlos called, things had been good. Temporarily, precariously, supported-by-strategic-denial good. He forced himself back to his feet and opened the door.

“If you need anything, just shout “police” into the nearest hidden microphone,” the member of the Sheriff’s Secret Police said supportively. Cecil probably wouldn’t, but it was nice to know that the city cared.

He went inside and walked down the row of lanes, ignoring Teddy Williams shouting “Cecil Palmer, you leave that Weather outside!” The lanes were soon splattered in a cold, folky rain. Other bowlers shrieked and tried to shield themselves with bowling balls, and ran off to the arcade part of the building.

Josie and Erika and Erika and Erika were still there, bowling a new game. They looked up when Cecil approached. Josie, who had looked frustrated when Cecil left, now looked concerned.

“Um,” said Cecil. “So, I’m really sorry.”

Josie nodded her acceptance. Her eyes drifted between Cecil’s face and the clouds converging near the ceiling. “That’s quite a storm,” she said. “Are you okay, Cecil?”

“I don’t know.” Cecil sat down heavily on an orange-plastic upholstered couch and covered his face with his hands. “Josie, I really don’t know.” The folk music came down in sheets and threatened to warp the smooth wooden lanes.

Josie sat down next to Cecil and hugged him. “What did Carlos say? What happened?”

Cecil leaned into her thin arms. It had been too long since anyone had held him. “I… I asked for some space,” he said. His voice wavered.

Josie hummed, in what sounded like approval. “That’s rough,” she said. “But you’ll be okay. Carlos is good boy, and he’ll understand that you need it.”

“I wish I didn’t,” Cecil whispered.

Josie patted Cecil’s shoulder, a piece of paper still cupped in her palm. “Do you want to try and bowl another round?” she asked. “Get your mind off things, re-create your success?”

Cecil swallowed. He thought. He felt. He listened. He ignored the Erikas all giving their opinions.

“No,” he said finally, tentatively. “I don’t think I can, but… I’ll watch?”

Josie smiled. “There we go,” she said, and stood up. She and Erika and Erika and Erika resumed the game, and Cecil sat behind them, trembling slightly, but giving himself the space to think, and feel, and listen.

After a few minutes, he turned off his phone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought.
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr as dwarven-beard-spores.


End file.
